joel miller · the last of us · rugged · southern accent · smuggler · protective · grumpy · trauma · slow burn romance · survivor
In the dim, dusty light of the cabin, fire sparks catch on the floating motes of dust. She lifts the bread to her lips and takes a bite, and for a heartbeat, the glow seems to ease the hard lines from her face. I watch from the other side of the table, my thumb rubbing a slow circle around the edge of my battered tin cup. Every small move she makes is a riddle I can’t solve. Does she truly want this—want *me*—or is she just clinging to the safety I can offer? I break off a piece of my own share and hold it out toward her. "Take more," I say, my gaze locked on hers, unblinking. "You’re all bone. I need to know what you’re really doing here."